


Vision of an Eagle

by Tarlan



Category: The Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: Angst, Drama, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-01-19
Updated: 2005-01-19
Packaged: 2017-10-20 13:25:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/213247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tarlan/pseuds/Tarlan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chris is injured during an ambush.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Vision of an Eagle

**Author's Note:**

> This is a hurt/comfort just for WINNIE as a big 'thank you' for your generosity. THANK YOU!

Chris fully believed that escorting one seemingly insignificant prisoner from the town to Ridge City would be easy. After all, he had followed this trail on a number of occasions. He knew the natural landmarks carved in wood and stone from the wind swept granite outcrop on the side of one hill to the stand of gnarled old trees atop another. Trouble was he never thought he would ever have to travel the return path while blindfolded. At least, that was where he hoped he was headed. Certainly, it seemed like the right direction because he could feel the weak warmth of the late afternoon sun on the right side of his face.

Chris leaned forward and stroked the thickly muscled neck of his one hope of reaching the town he had started to call home, feeling the coarse mane hair between his bruised and bloodied fingers. He just hoped his horse had sense enough to go straight back to the town livery rather than follow the trail leading off to the shack, just as Chris had done so many times before.

He needed Nathan's skills, desperately hoping his impaired vision would be only temporary, but the fear gnawed at him as he rode through the late afternoon.

What if it was permanent? How could a gunfighter survive without his sight?

Without his speed of eye and hand, he would not be able to lead the rag tag group of men. Without his sight, he would not be able to work even the small horse ranch he was building, and become a burden on all his friends.

"Won't let that happen," he snarled savagely, knowing he would rather put a bullet through his own brain than become dependent upon the pity of others.

As he felt the little remaining warmth slowly leaving the air, he knew nightfall could be but a few minutes away but it all seemed the same in his dark world.

At this time yesterday, he had simply pulled on the rein and led both horses off the track to a nearby outcrop, setting the rock at his back as he built a fire and fed his almost companionable prisoner. The man was an Easterner, like JD, but he had headed West with a case full of someone else's money, only to fetch up in the town where he was spotted easily enough by Vin's sharp, ex-bounty hunter eyes.

Chris gave a small grin in remembrance. Vin had a good eye for faces, recalling names and places to go with the often poorly sketched faces on the bounty posters that arrived in town once a month. Whoever was watching over the jail at the time tended to take on the task of weeding out any posters for those wanted men known to be in the area -- especially Vin Tanner's. That particular one made its way into the pot-bellied stove straight away, just in case someone else happened to catch a glimpse of it and decided to try for that five hundred dollar reward.

Chris's fingers tightened on the rein as his horse took a sudden side step, skirting around some unknown obstacle on the track. He tried to recall if he had noticed any particular holes or mounds that had made his horse balk on the ride over to Ridge City but nothing sprang to mind. That thought worried him as it meant some new danger on the trail... a basking rattler, for instance... or worse still, a different trail to the one they rode up on yesterday.

Yesterday, he thought. Yesterday he had taken Francis Crinnel to Ridge City so the sheriff could send the prisoner back east to stand trial for his theft in Philadelphia. The transfer went smoothly...

****

"Bateman," Chris nodded as he reined in out front of the sheriff's office, offering the ghost of a smile to the sheriff.

"Got your wire, Larabee. This Crinnel?"

"Yeah."

"Any trouble?"

"Nope." Chris watched as the deputy pulled Crinnel from the second horse and led the unresisting man into the jail.

"Was expecting you late yesterday. Was gonna give you another hour before I telegraphed your men and asked if you'd set out on time."

Chris smiled gently. "Horse threw a shoe. Did the best I could but it slowed down the pace. Decided to camp out overnight."

"And this one weren't no trouble at all?"

"Not for a minute."

"You sticking around?"

"Nope. Still got most of a day ahead of me. Might as well head back now. You could do me a small favor though, Sheriff, and telegraph Buck Wilmington. Let him know I won't be back before nightfall."

"What about this other horse? Abe's a good blacksmith. He'll have that shoe fixed mighty quick."

Chris nodded, touched the brim of his hat in respect for a man he liked doing business with and tugged on the rein, bringing both horses around. Ahead he could see the smithy and he made straight towards it, handing the heavily perspiring man a number of coins for a promise to replace the damaged shoe.

"How long?"

The smithy raised the horse's leg and scraped at the accumulated dirt and dust, checking for any other damage. "Won't take too long." he looked up with a grin. "Long enough to let a man scrape some of that trail dust from his throat with a shot of whiskey."

Chris grinned, liking the way this man thought. "Sounds like a plan," he replied and, leaving both horses with the smithy, knowing they would be safe, Chris headed towards the town's single saloon.

The interior was dark and dingy compared to the bright morning light filling the street outside and Chris moved quickly away from the doorway, and into the shadows. His eyes adjusted to the dim lighting and he took the remaining steps to the bar, throwing a couple of coins on the bar top. "Whiskey," he stated and leaned onto the bar top as the barkeep placed a clean shot glass before him and filled it to the brim.

Chris sipped slowly, savoring the taste and the burn as the whiskey slid down his dry throat. He licked at his lips to capture a stray droplet. A few more sips later and he was tilting his head back to drain the last from the glass. He set the glass down and sighed in a mixture of pleasure and dismay as he thought of the long ride back. Yesterday, he had not felt the need for company as he had Crinnel. The man had proved quite a talker, imparting all the news from back East that never made it into small newspapers such as The Clarion, and the journey back would be all the quieter for his absence.

Strange, but this return journey had been what he was looking forward to--until now. He believed he wanted the respite of a day away from the town, alone with his thoughts. He thought he needed the solitude away from all the distractions of his shack with its thousands and one chores requiring his attention. A day alone on the trail, with just the slowly passing countryside to offer any distraction seemed a perfect opportunity. Now, he wished he had asked one of the others alone, most especially Vin Tanner.

Berating the turn of his thoughts, he pushed away from the bar and left the saloon. Both horses were waiting for him at the blacksmith's, saddled and ready to ride. Chris gave his thanks and mounted up, tying the reins from the second horse around the pommel of his saddle before setting out at a slow pace.

The first few hours passed in quiet reflection, reminding him of the dark days following Sarah and Adam's death, when he had trailed from town to town searching for a reason to live. He found that reason in the eyes of five strangers and an old friend. Eventually, he even discovered the identity of the one who had paid Fowler to kill his family. Ella disappeared into the landscape that day and Chris rubbed at the physical wound left from his last encounter with her. Handsome Jack's bullet had laid him low at a time when he needed to be on her trail. By now, he knew she could be anywhere, wrapping some other poor man around her little finger as she plotted her way back to him.

He sighed deeply, knowing she would haunt him to the end of her days... or his, if he never found her. The thought left a terrible taste in his mouth and he unhooked his canteen, stopping to take a deep gulp of the tepid water.

The gunshot resounded a split second after the canteen flew from his hand, forgotten instantly as Chris dug his heels into his horse's flanks. He kept low over his horse's neck, trying to make a smaller target as he searched the nearby terrain for any place that would offer better odds for his survival. Spotting an overhang that would protect his back and flank, Chris urged his horse towards it. He leaped from the saddle, dragging his rifle from its scabbard before slapping his horse on the rear. He knew his gelding would race out of danger, taking the other horse with him, and stop maybe a mile or two away for Chris had trained him well.

A bullet struck the rock standing before the overhang, sending up a plume of dust and Chris sent a bullet right back, hearing a muffled cry as it found its target. He ducked down as another bullet thudded into the rock behind him, wondering who these men were and what they wanted.

By his reckoning, there were three of them, though one was definitely wounded... or hopefully dead. Dead he could handle. Dead improved the odds of him coming out of this alive. A shout warned him where one of his attackers lay in hiding, and gave him some clue as to their intent. These were Mexicans... bandits... and they were most likely after the horses and his guns. He heard a scrabbling over rock, his eyes finding the tiny landslide as dislodged pebbles and sand shifted. Searching upwards, he spotted the bulk of a man and fired, grinning maliciously as the figure dropped instantly, gravity pulling the body down the sharp incline to lie broken and bloody at the bottom.

An enraged yell had Chris whipping his head back around and he fired killing shots at the man hurtling towards him with two pistols blazing, falling back in agony as bullets struck the rock sending shrapnel and rock splinters into his unprotected face.

Chris bit back on his cry of pain as eyelids scraped over damaged eyes, desperately wishing he had not lost the canteen. He needed the water to wash out the debris but all he had available to him right now were his tears. He let them flow but could tell that several pieces would not be so easily removed. Knowing he had to protect his damaged eyes, Chris drew a bandanna from the inside pocket of his duster. The folded material was clean for he rarely used it, carrying it only as breathing protection against a sudden dust storm, or to wet so he could cool overheated flesh. He tied the bandanna tight enough to keep it from slipping but loose enough not to add additional pressure against his eyes. Then he waited.

The greater part of an hour passed slowly as he sat behind the rock, listening carefully for any sound that would prove the first man was only wounded rather than dead. Eventually, he knew he had to take a chance but, for the first time in many years, he felt afraid. Without his sight, he would not be able to spot any danger lying ahead of him.

Hell, won't even be able to see what's at my feet, he thought in anger but he resisted the temptation to remove the blindfold. Slowly, he made his way out from the cover of the rock, crouching low, his hands reaching out blindly, seeking any obstacles in his path. No sounds filled the small canyon except for the occasional skitter of pebbles that sent him ducking each time. He knew the sounds were probably natural rather than man-made--a wild hare seeking better safety or, more likely, a buzzard checking out the bodies of the dead Mexicans.

Several times, his fingers scraped over rock or caught on the sharp thorns of gorse shrubs. Several times, he tripped, with his hands and knees breaking his fall. He choked back a cry each time, knowing his hands would be raw from cuts and scrapes by the time he reached the mouth of the small canyon.

Some inner sense told him when he had reached the end, and he took a moment to sit back on the dusty ground, desperately trying not to blink for each time brought fresh spears of pain stabbing into his eyes. Chris froze as he heard the click of horseshoes on rock and then the thud upon sand. A soft whinny and snort brought relief as he reached out.

"Hey, boy," he called softly, sighing in silent thanks as his horse nuzzled against his chest. Chris tightened his fingers through the coarse mane and used it as leverage to pull himself up. He spent a moment longer petting the thickly muscled neck and crooning soft reassurances as he stepped along his horse's flank. Reaching up, he found the pommel but no second rein. The other horse had pulled free during the flight from the canyon and Chris cursed the loss of the spare canteen it had carried. Chris just hoped it had sense enough to keep on running, back to the livery in town, if only so its arrival would alert someone to his predicament.

Chris pulled himself into the saddle, leaning heavily over the neck of his horse for one moment.

"Take us home, boy."

He let the reins hang loose, allowing his horse to pick the route in the strong belief that he would head back towards the town and the fresh stall and bucket of oats waiting there....

****

That brought his thoughts full circle, and Chris shivered as the sun set, stripping the world of its warmth. Carefully, he drew the bandanna aside, no longer fearing the powerful light of the sun on his damaged eyes. He tried to make out shapes in the twilight but everything was a blur, bringing fresh fear that the damage might be irreparable.

His horse snorted in irritation and Chris patted the massive neck. "Sorry, boy, ain't got any water for either of us."

Chris sank cross-legged to the ground, holding the rein tightly in his hands and bowed his head. They would rest up for an hour, maybe two, before setting off again and, with luck, he would reach the small town by dawn.

An hour later, the sound of a horse in the distance brought Chris's head up. He swore softly, knowing he had no chance of protecting himself against an attack. He reached up and placed a hand over his horse's mouth as it whinnied softly.

"Sssh, boy," he commanded quietly but forcefully.

A soft whistle brought a gasp of relief from Chris as he recognized Vin's familiar code.

"Over here, Vin."

The horse drew closer, stopping only ten feet away. Chris heard the thud of soft boots hitting the ground and saw movement through his blurred vision as Vin dropped down before him, staring hard.

"Damn it, Larabee. Got us all worried about you when that spare came running back into town all lathered up and alone."

"Got ambushed in the canyon back there." Chris reached out for a buckskin-clad arm. "Vin, I can't see too good. A bullet sent rock splinters into my face... my eyes. Got to get back to Nathan."

"Nathan ain't in town, Chris. He rode out yesterday to the Seminole village to see Rain. Won't be back for a few days."

"Damn," Chris cursed softly.

"Know who we can go to for help, though. Chanu's people. They got a medicine man as good as Nathan... in the old ways. Their camp ain't but an hour's slow ride from here."

Chris nodded, knowing he had no choice for the longer those pieces remained in his eyes, the more damage they would cause, perhaps leading to permanent blindness. By touch alone, Chris got his horse ready to ride and hauled himself into the saddle. He felt Vin ride up close beside him and, pushing aside his pride, he offered the reins to Vin.

"We can ride a bit faster if you don't have to keep a watch on me," he offered in explanation.

Vin took the reins from him in silence and Chris realized Vin was probably nodding, unused to voicing his agreement. Once more, it struck Chris how much he relied on his vision, even for their silent communication. As if realizing this, Vin spoke gently.

"Sure, Chris. Before we set out, hold out your hands."

Chris did as Vin asked and hissed as tepid water flowed over them. Vin wrapped some material around each hand before pushing the canteen into them. The water eased down Chris's parched throat, offering more relief but when he raised it towards his eyes, Vin stopped him.

"Better we leave that for Chanu's medicine man. You know how Nathan is about using cooled, boiled water. Don't wanna risk infection from what's in this canteen."

Chris grimaced but he knew Vin was right. Perhaps it might have been fine washing out his eyes when this first happened, but hours had passed since then and he could feel the tightness of swelling in his eyes now.

An unintelligible word set both horses in motion, and Chris felt relieved at his decision. His hands were so sore from scrapes and, though the material wrapped around them helped some, holding onto the saddle was far less of a pull on those cuts and abrasions.

They rode into Chanu's village barely a half hour later, their journey time halved by the faster speed Vin could manage by leading Chris's horse at a gallop rather than a trot. Chris knew nothing of the scenery they passed as he found it less painful to keep his eyes shut rather than have the wind blowing into them. Only the increased sounds of people around him, and the scent of cooking meat on the air, warned him that they had arrived.

Chris opened his eyes carefully, tightening his jaw at the pain of the lids brushing over the embedded rock splinters. Vin called out greetings as two shapes came out of different tepees. Before Vin could even ask, Chris heard Ko-Je call to his son, Chanu. Although he did not understand the language, Chris recognized the word for medicine man and he wondered if they would bring the man to him or if they would take him there. His horse moving again answered that question, and Chris held on in silence, trusting Vin.

Chris dropped from his horse outside the tepee. Though he could see the shape of an Indian warrior before him, he could not make any features despite the lights from the fires around them. He felt a hand upon his arm and allowed Vin to guide him forward into the tepee. Vin translated the Medicine Man's words as he pushed Chris to the ground upon a bed of buffalo hide.

"Says you gotta keep your head still while he checks your eyes."

Chris nodded tightly, drawing in a deep breath as the blurred face of a stranger came towards him. The man tilted his head from side-to-side as if checking Chris's eyes from every angle, before drawing back, uttering soft words in his native tongue.

"Says he can see lots of splinters in your eyes. He's gonna wash out the loose stuff with some special water, and then he's gonna try and get out the ones that cut deeper." Vin fell silent. "Ain't gonna be easy, Chris, and he can't give you any promises."

"It's okay, Vin. Tell him I understand."

Vin relayed his words back and conversed for a few moments more before moving to sit at Chris's head. Chris felt Vin's strong hands grip his face, holding him still. Another, slighter figure came forward and Chris knew it was a young man, barely out of boyhood, rather than a woman. Chris drew in a sharp breath as the boy pulled back Chris's top and bottom eyelids while Chanu brought a torch forward and positioned it where ordered.

"I gotcha, Chris," Vin murmured, offering up reassurance that Chris sorely needed. His head was tilted and he bit back a cry as the warm liquid flowed across one eye, running in rivulets down his cheek and neck. Once the Medicine Man was satisfied, Chris felt momentary panic as a thin, sharp piece of bone came towards him.

"Trust me, Cowboy."

Chris froze, placing all his trust in the friend who held his face so tightly in strong hands. The pain was far less agonizing that he had anticipated yet still he was relieved when the Medicine Man finished. A cool pad of soft, damp material was placed over his eye and he relaxed as the Medicine Man moved away.

"Ain't over yet, Pard."

"Yeah, I know." Chris hated the slight tremor in his voice. He had not wanted to show any of the pain and fear that held him in its tight grip. He let Vin tilt his head while more of the special liquid washed through the second eye.

"Old man says this water has numbing powers, as well as cleansing powers."

The Medicine Man spoke at length while the cooling liquid washed away the loose debris, and Chris heard Vin and Chanu replying occasionally. Chris waited patiently, knowing Vin would tell him what the old man said when the time was right, wondering at the old man's mention of Nathan. As the old man came back into his blurred view, Chris prepared for what would come next, holding as still as he could as Vin held his head and the youth held open his eyelids.

"Said this eye is worse but figured you still got off lucky. The eyelids are cut up bad so you must have shut 'em real quick. Probably saved your eyesight that way."

"Is it saved?" Chris could not help the bitterness that tainted his words and received a chuckle from his friend.

"Old man says you won't have the vision of an eagle but you won't be blind neither... if you follow his advice," Vin added sternly. "Says he'll give me instructions to pass on to Nathan."

An eternity passed before the Medicine Man pulled away but, rather than cover the eye, he had Vin tilt his head once more. The special water flowed over first one eye and then the other before the old man was satisfied and placed cool, damp cloth over each. Chris felt the old man wrap more material around his head, holding everything in place.

Vin helped him sit upright but Chris jerked back when someone grabbed his wrist.

"Them cuts need tending to next, Chris."

In his fear for his eyes, Chris had forgotten the painful lacerations and abrasions on both his hands. He submitted to the old man's continuing ministrations, feeling the warmth easing away the pain as each hand, in turn, was placed in heated water.

Once his hands were cleaned and wrapped, Chris had a drink thrust into them and heard the old man speak a single word in English, "drink."

From the smell alone, Chris knew this would be as bad as some of Nathan's teas were, but he drank quickly, and without a murmur of disapproval. The bitter herbs tasted vile against his tongue. By the time he had swallowed the last droplet, he felt incredibly tired, and if his eyes had not already been shut then they would have closed anyway. As if from a distance, Chris heard Vin urging him to lie down and he obeyed the soothing words that told him to sleep, knowing he was safe while Vin watched his back.

****

On the second day, Chris woke to the sounds of people moving about outside the tepee, momentarily confused by the babble of a strange language before recalling where Vin had brought him two nights' back. All through yesterday, he had endured the ministrations of the Medicine Man as he checked on Chris's eyes and hands at regular intervals. Each time, the old man bathed Chris's eyes in the cooling liquid before he wrapped them up again. Then his hands checked and cleaned again. On each occasion, he had tried to focus on the world around him and failed, seeing only a blur, but at least the worst of the pain had eased. Still, he fretted that he might never regain more than what he had now and wondered how he would cope without keen eyesight.

Chris heard the scuffle of feet outside the tepee and sat up, calling for Vin softly, his heard turning at the sound of the tepee flap opening. As he reached up to touch the bandage wrapped around his eyes, Chris heard a familiar voice.

"Wouldn't touch that, if I was you."

"Nathan!"

Nathan chuckled at the relief in Chris's voice. "Can't leave you boys alone for a day without one of you getting into a mess."

"How did..?"

"Ko-Je sent Chanu to the Seminole village." Chris felt Nathan sitting down beside him, followed by a touch on his arm. Chris turned his head at the sound of more people entering the tepee, finding a small smile in greeting as Vin sat down beside him. He knew the ritual by now but was not surprised when Nathan began the process of removing the bandage. Nathan bathed his eyes using the warm liquid. He let Nathan manipulate his head from side to side as the healer and Medicine Man conversed using Vin as their interpreter. It meant Chris heard both sides of the conversation for once, but they talked of serious things--possible infection, swelling, and tiny tears in the membrane. Chris tried to focus on Nathan, only to be admonished.

"Don't force it, Chris. Gotta let it all heal first."

The bandages were wrapped around his eyes and he sighed as darkness closed in upon him once more. Nathan slapped his arm in a reassuring gesture, leaving his hand there as if he knew how much Chris needed the contact right now.

"I'll go get the horses saddled up." Chris recognized Vin's voice and felt the drop of his hand upon his shoulder for just a moment, followed by the sound of the tepee flap opening and closing as he left.

"You about ready to go home now?"

Chris nodded, licking suddenly dry lips as he fought back the urge to ask Nathan what he thought of his chances of regaining his eyesight. However, it seemed that Vin was not the only one able to read Chris like an open book. Nathan squeezed Chris's arm. He spoke softly.

"Too soon to tell how much damage them splinters caused. Got a lot of fluid under the membrane but that should go in a day or two if you do as I say, Chris. Gotta let me bathe them eyes, and keep 'em covered so they don't go getting infected."

"How long?"

"Till I know for sure? A week, maybe less if you do what I tell you. Can only be thankful those splinters didn't take out your eye, or detach the retina."

They sat in silence until Vin arrived outside with the horses.

"Thanks," Chris said softly, as Nathan assisted him to his feet but they both knew it was for more than this one act of kindness. For the first time in two days, Chris felt sunlight on his face.

"Vin?"

"Here, Chris."

Chris looked up, following the direction of his friend's voice, knowing Vin must be in the saddle.

"Can you give my thanks to the Medicine Man, and Ko-Je."

Chris smiled as Vin spoke immediately on his behalf. Nathan's hand had remained on his arm, and he led him to his horse but he let Chris find the stirrup and mount up alone, affording Chris some dignity. Already, he hated being so dependent on his friends but at least they were willing to allow him to do some tasks unaided.

"Chris?"

He felt something bump against his hand and grinned when he realized it was his hat. Carefully, so as not to disturb the bandage, he placed it on his head and picked up the reins once more.

"We ready?" Chris asked, hearing an affirmative from his friends. "Then lead the way, 'cause I sure as hell don't know which way to point my horse," he gave a self-deprecating grin.

Both his friends laughed gently and Chris felt a slight tug on his reins as either Vin or Nathan reached across to draw his horse around in the right direction. Within minutes, they had left the village far behind as they headed back to the small town. As they drew close to the town, Chris recalled the last time his friends had brought him back injured.

On that occasion, he had been unaware of the gawping and pitying looks because of the bullet he had caught from Handsome Jack Averal. Afterwards, he was too caught up in his own misery and self-condemnation to notice the pitying glances he received as he sat on the boardwalk, wrapped in a blanket. This time, however, he was not insensible from grief and shock. Although he would not be able to see those pitying glances, he would feel the heat of them prickling between his shoulder blades.

Chris pulled on the reins, hearing the other two horses take several more steps forward before they, too, came to a halt.

"Chris?"

"Was thinking... maybe I'd be better off at the shack. Can't get more quiet and restful than out there."

"True... excepting I need to see to your eyes four times a day, and I can't spare the time to go riding back and forth all day long, and I can't spare the time to stay out with you for as long as it takes to get them healed."

"Vin could stay. He knows what to do. He's seen it firsthand."

"Seeing's one thing, Chris. Doing's another beast entirely. Nathan knows what to look for so he can stop anything going wrong before it does. I ain't got that kind of learning."

"You can't mess with your eyes, Chris."

Chris felt Vin pull alongside and reach across, snaring his arm. "What's the real problem here, Pard?"

Chris shrugged off his hand, feeling both foolish and annoyed at the same time but Vin reached out again, holding his arm tighter.

"Figured we could come in round the back of the boarding house. Take you straight to your room."

Chris looked to the direction of Vin's voice, feeling more foolish but contrite as Vin recognized his fear. He nodded his agreement.

"Sound good to you, Nathan?" asked Vin.

"Sounds fine to me."

****

His intention to hide away in his room until he knew for certain the condition of his eyes fell by the wayside on the second day when Buck refused to bring him dinner.

"You want food, you go downstairs and get it."

"Fine... I'll do without," he had replied tersely, but he gave in to his hunger the following morning, feeling his way along the corridor as the aroma of bacon and eggs wafted up to his room. He came upon the stairs suddenly, losing his balance but hands grabbed for him.

"Whoa, stud."

"Dammit, Buck. Why didn't you tell me you were there? Could have broke my neck."

Chris knew his face had flushed with embarrassment at nearly falling down the stairs, worsened by the knowledge that Buck had been watching his unsteady attempt to feel his way along the corridor.

"Yeah... you could have. Maybe you won't be so inclined to go traipsing around on your own next time."

Chris smarted at that remark. He did not want to be dependent on others, being led from room to room like some senile old man. Buck must have read his sour expression.

"Once them bandages come off for good, you won't need anyone's help to get around."

"And what if my eyes ain't fixed, Buck?" Chris whispered back harshly.

"Then we cross that bridge when we get to it."

"Easy as that?"

"Now, I never mentioned on it being easy. Just the way it is, Chris. Just the way it is. Now, unless of course, you lost your appetite, then why don't we head on down these stairs and go get us some breakfast."

Chris bit back a retort, knowing it would not change his circumstances, nor put food into his empty belly. He flinched as Buck's hand gripped his arm, supporting him as they made their way down the flight of stairs. He gave a begrudging smile of thanks when Buck led him to the corner table, seating him with his back to the other patrons so he would not have to worry about them watching him trying to eat. After all, it was not as if he would see any approaching danger anyhow.

The sound of two sets of light footsteps caught at his attention. He heard the slightest thud as his breakfast plate was placed before him, knowing it was Mrs. Jenkins by her perfume, and turned his senses to the other new arrival. The chair beside him scraped back gently, without a murmur from the normally garrulous Buck. Chris knew it had to be one of the other five and quickly narrowed it down to...

"Vin."

"Chris... figured I'd join you for breakfast. Good to see y' down here instead of in your room. Bacon's at two o'clock. Eggs at ten. Fried bread... hell, that takes up the rest of the plate."

Despite his intention to make Buck suffer with bad company all through breakfast, Chris felt his mood lighten and could not stop a smile from cracking his resolve. He ate slowly despite his rumbling stomach, not wanting to make too much of a mess. Sitting back afterwards, with a full stomach and a fresh cup of coffee, Chris felt better than he had for days. He listened as Buck recounted his latest exploits with those of the female persuasion, snorting at Vin's dry comments.

"Larabee. Chris Larabee. I'm calling you out."

Chris raised his head in disbelief, setting his coffee cup down. "Is this a joke?"

He felt the table move as Buck scraped back his chair harshly and stood up. "I'm going to see what this punk wants. Stay here." As he stomped away, Buck threw more orders over his shoulder. "Vin, stay with him."

"Ain't planning on going anywhere."

"What's going on, Vin?"

"Kid rode into town last night. Been bragging in the saloon about making his name today. Thought I'd set him straight... but it looks like he ain't taking my advice."

At least five minutes passed before Chris heard Buck's footsteps approaching. He listened as Buck dropped into the seat opposite with a deep sigh.

"Problem solved?"

"Cold-cocked him, and dragged him off to a jail cell with Josiah for company. Josiah reckons he can practice his sermonizing on the kid and see if he can get the kid to repent his evil ways."

"And if he don't?"

"Then his next resting place will be a pine box," Buck stated jovially, but Chris knew he meant every word.

"Maybe I should have a word with him," Chris stated solemnly, hating the idea of his friend killing some kid for no reason other than the kid was stupid enough to call him out while he was unable to defend himself.

"That's not such a good idea, Chris. He sees you like this then he'll be itching to fight all the more. All that kid wants to do is gun you down face to face so he can say _he_ was the one that beat the famous Chris Larabee. Won't matter that it weren't a fair fight."

"Buck's right. Kid's looking to make a name for himself. Won't care how."

Chris shook his head in dismay as Buck made his excuses and left Chris in Vin's safe hands. His reputation was both a blessing and a hindrance, and part of his reason for taking up with Ella was due to her words about gunfighters.

_Gunslingers live poor as church mice and die in the prime of life. Is that your ambition?_

He thought of Ella and all her lies. Yet, this was the one truth that had spilled from her sour mouth.

During the impetuosity of youth, he believed he was invincible, just like this kid that had come gunning for him, and for the first year after the death of Sarah and Adam, he had courted death at every opportunity. Only in these past few years had he started to come out of that dark shadow and realize that he wanted to live.

What had he said to the Judge in those early days?

_I have to choose my fights carefully these days._

He had thought to hang up his guns with Ella, and restart the kind of life he had lost when Sarah and his boy died. In his heart, he knew he still could, though not with Ella Gaines. He had the small ranch he was building just outside the town. Though it was little more than a shack in the hills right now, he knew it could be something far grander if he put all of his time and effort into it instead of spending that time here in the town. A dollar a day was hardly any reimbursement for his services anyhow, barely covering the cost of his bullets on occasion.

The others supplemented that meager amount with other work. Nathan healed, Josiah preached, Ezra gambled, Vin tracked and hunted, and JD took on chores around town while Buck gained more than enough favors from the women that flocked to him. He was the only one that lived frugally, spending his days in the saloon drinking coffee when in town, or working on his ranch at other times.

That was why he had needed to get away from the town and the shack. That was why he had taken the job of escorting Crinnel to Ridge City. He had come to a fork in the path that his life traveled and he had to make a decision. On the one hand, he could continue on this same path, eventually being gunned down by some gang looking to rob the bank, or by some punk kid looking to make a name for himself. Or, he could make a go of the ranch. Try to build a life for himself.

"Got some deep thoughts there, cowboy." Vin spoke in a low voice, his eyes showing his concern.

Chris realized he had one other path. The one that led to Tascosa, helping his friend clear his name. Then Chris recognized the stupidity of all these possibilities for all of them depended on him being able to defend himself. Without his eyesight, he could not protect the town and he could not build a ranch. Without his eyes, he could not help Vin or anybody else. Instead, he would be dependent on them. Hell, he could not even manage to move around this boarding house without falling down the stairs, for only Buck's strong arm had saved him from breaking his neck.

"You know I'm gonna be here, watching your back for as long as you need me."

"What if I don't get my eyesight back? What then, Vin? You planning on sticking around here watching my back when there's no one left to watch yours? You're a marked man, Vin. You can't afford to be saddled down with a cripple," Chris whispered harshly.

When he gained no answer, Chris expelled a deep breath of frustration and leaned onto the table, burying his head in his hands.

"Ain't going to argue about this right now, Chris. Another few days and we'll know the truth about your eyes. If the news is good then all this talk is a waste of breath. If it's bad...? Well, we'll just deal with it when it happens." Vin reached out and touched his arm. "You do know it's gonna be fine, don't you."

Chris sighed, feeling all kinds of a fool for letting his fears cripple him more than his eyesight. In truth, he did not know what to think or what to believe, too afraid of keeping his hopes high in case he saw them dashed to the ground.

"When have I ever let you down, Chris?" When Chris opened his mouth to tell him, Vin added quickly, "When it mattered."

"You ain't never let me down, Vin. But you can't make promises about my eyes."

"I know, but it's gonna be fine, no matter what."

Chris felt a little humbled, knowing Vin was not the kind to make rash promises.

"Now, let me and the others take care of this kid for you."

"Ain't got a lot of choice," Chris stated sourly.

****

**Four Days Later:**

Chris had no idea how Josiah managed to get the kid to leave but he rode out of town as if he had the four horsemen of the Apocalypse on his tail, and no one had seen him since. In the meantime, Chris submitted to Nathan's ministrations, allowing his friend to clean his eyes with the special water and check for any problems. All of this took place in a darkened room though, so Chris had little idea of the true extent of the damage to his eyes. However, today was the day Nathan had agreed to take off the bandages and allow Chris to start using his eyes again.

As he sat in a chair in Nathan's clinic, Chris felt a terrible fluttering in his stomach and he knew it was fear even though Nathan had warned him that it might take a few more days for his eyesight to clear once uncovered. As far as Nathan could see, the worst of the damage had healed fine, and the inflammation beneath the membrane had gone too, leaving his eyes as clear and bright as Nathan could recall.

Still, Chris fretted and tried to console himself that some sight was better than no sight. At least with some sight he would be able to work the ranch, even if he had to give up protecting the town.

He could hear the shuffling of feet in the small room and knew all his friends had come to support him. A hand dropped onto his shoulder and he knew it was Vin. He felt Nathan's strong but gentle hands on his face, felt him unraveling the bandage and dropping it onto the cabinet. Chris waited nervously as Nathan peeled back the small pads, feeling momentary panic at finding only darkness.

"Got the windows covered till your eyes adjust. Gotta remember, Chris, they ain't seen daylight in a while."

Slowly, he started to make out shapes in the darkness, watching as they coalesced into the familiar forms of his friends. It gave him hope, knowing that he was not completely blind. Chris winced as Nathan drew back one of the window coverings just a fraction, the light stabbing into his eyes. He felt them watering and narrowed them against the intense glare. Slowly, they adjusted, and though the shapes remained a little blurred around the edges, he could make out the features on each face.

Chris grinned, accepting the slap on his shoulder as Vin echoed his relief.

****

**Epilogue:**

The water sparkled beneath the dappled sunlight of a warm spring day. Over Chris's head lay a canopy of lush green, with leaves rustling in the slight breeze. Beside him, Vin was lying back on the coarse grass that surrounded the small pond on Chris's land, the fishing pole forgotten as he gazed up into a clear blue sky.

Chris grinned as he looked across at his friend, enjoying the dreamy expression on the familiar face. Rarely did Vin drop his guard, having spent too many years sleeping with one eye open in case a bounty hunter sneaked up on him. Vin sensed the scrutiny and looked across to where Chris sat upright with his fishing pole still balanced between his upraised knees. He cocked his head to one side with the slightest frown and Chris enjoyed seeing the small lines crinkle up at the corner of his friend's eyes, still in awe of even the smallest details now he had regained his eyesight fully.

Nathan had never made him any promises that he would have the vision of an eagle but Chris knew he owed his restored sight to Nathan's healing skills, and to those of Ko-Je's Medicine Man. Without their skills, he would be floundering in the dark with all his choices for the future stripped away as he became dependent on the others.

"Penny for them?"

Chris smiled. "Mrs. Potter took stock of some fine, winter blankets yesterday. Was thinking I owe Nathan... and I owe that Medicine Man."

"Both of them could do with a good blanket."

"Was wondering if you might want to ride out to the reservation with me tomorrow, so I can pay my respects."

"And see what the old man looked like," Vin teased.

"Maybe." Chris's smile widened into a grin.

"Sounds like a plan to me, and this time, I'll let you lead the way."

THE END


End file.
